


Webs

by WerewolvesAreReal



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Shapeshifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 00:58:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9468344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WerewolvesAreReal/pseuds/WerewolvesAreReal
Summary: Even Odo doesn't always feel like being a security officer. Or a person.





	

Even now there are too many parts of Deep Space Nine that are unusable. The Cardassians left parts of the station gutted when they left, and certain sections will probably be uninhabited for years. But even if most people – barring the overworked Chief of Engineering – tend to pretend that the station is smaller than it is, Odo knows better. A thief or smuggler could be hiding around any banned corner, and in his mind _security cameras_ have never been enough protection against any such thing. It's not a good idea to send his Bajoran officers out here on patrol – the Cardassians liked to leave traps behind, among other nasty surprises – but no one thought to rig the walls, so Odo can walk around the ruined sections without even touching the ground. It's an excellent way to end his shift, especially if Quark is taking a day to do inventory and there's no good reason to loom around the bar.

Today his shift ends on just such a patrol. Odo comes to a halt as he checks the time, grunting a bit in annoyance. He _hates_ free time. Maybe if he just keeps patrolling the dead sections no one will notice he's overworking. Starfleet and their odd laws; he can't imagine why they don't like him taking double-shifts.

As he starts to walk back to the Promenade, feet sticking and slipping against the wall, Odo passes by a sharp corner that would probably prove a hassle to most humanoids. Part of the ceiling has broken away, leaving one corner of the wall distractingly dark, distractingly empty. Odo pauses.

First he tells himself that anything could be hiding in the corner. He turns into a bird and flutters around, but that isn't sufficient; he becomes a bat, which assures him that nothing lives nearby, and also that the corner is entirely empty.

And then he turns into a spider, for no reason at all, and climbs up into a tiny, tiny wedge in the wreckage. There's no precise purpose for this except that the darkness demands being a spider. And he starts to spin a web in perfect contentment.

* * *

 

Seconds, minutes, hours stretch without notice. Ringing silence narrows the expanse of the universe down to this: Odo, and the web, and the cold strong steel bent over his legs like a shield. Three inches of space have become a field, unexplored, and he subdues every new piece of space with layers and layers of white web. Under his direction strands drip and fall away like wet silk. He pulls one piece over the next, a soft net as strong as steel. The ends of the web quiver in the darkness, inviolate, as he scuttles from one side to another. Perfect.

_“Just give it to me already.”_

_“What, here? A little further - “_

_“We've gone far enough, it isn't safe - “_

Intruders. Odo starts to retreat deeper into the gloom before the words register.

He lowers himself on a strand of webbing, drops to the floor, and starts to crawl.

_“The next shipment won't come for two weeks,”_ says a muffled voice. The speaker is a Bolian; after the long silence his words sound distant and far-off. _“We can meet back here. Twice the payment, next time. Five hundred bars.”_

_“Show me first,”_ says the second speaker – an ungainly human, red-faced, who shifts and nearly squashes Odo. The Bolian holds up a case and opens it to reveal a faceted Tallonian crystal.

That's enough for Odo. He launches himself upward in a fluid surge of movement, startling the Bolian into dropping his case. He wraps two suddenly prehensile arms around the smugglers and uses a third arm to tap his new combadge. “Odo to Baran.”

“Yes, Constable?” asks the Bajoran Security Officer.

“Arrest Quark,” says Odo maliciously.

“Why,” sighs Baran.

“Questioning!”

He drags the two smugglers away.

Quark has nothing to do with the incident – so he says – but Odo never misses an opportunity to make him linger in the cells for a few hours. With his own witness and the crystals on-hand the case is neatly wrapped, the two criminals left stymied in their own confinement. Commander Sisko comes by while he's processing the paperwork in his office.

“I heard you've been working overtime again,” Sisko says. “Constable, tell me, how do you always know what's happening on this station? You must have been in the right place at _exactly_ the right time.”

Odo pauses.

“Constable?”

“...It's not hard,” Odo grunts. “I trust my instincts, Commander. And these people make it easy.”

Sisko laughs. “Easy enough for you – well, good work.”

Odo waves him away. He stays hunched over his padd for awhile, though, scowling at the little screen.

Undisturbed, a spider's web can last for years.

Kira enters the office a few minutes later. “Odo,” she smiles. “You aren't even on duty – you can finish that later. Come relax a bit. I'll tell you all about what happened on the Promenade today.”

“Sure,” says Odo just a little bitterly. He puts down the padd. “What else would I do, after all?”

 


End file.
